Rewards
by emthebloody
Summary: Spike reflects after Buffy has come back from the dead. His demon side and human side come together for the first time, and the Powers That Be take notice.  AU Spuffy starting during "After Life"
1. Chapter 1

**Hi again! This is my second fic, and it's gonna be a multi-chapter one. I'm not sure how long it will be, since I don't have it all planned out yet. It starts out during "After Life," after all the drama goes down, and goes AU from there.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and only intend to use the characters for entertainment purposes.**

Spike's boots squelched unpleasantly through the muddy puddles as he trudged through Restfield. The cold water seeped quickly through the holes and his socks. He cursed himself for not nicking a new pair of boots after the last time this had happened. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to make the unruly curls lie straight, but it was no use. The water had freed them from their oppressive gel prison, and nothing could force them back in.

Looking longingly at his nice, dry crypt as he passed, he resolutely hunched his shoulders and kept walking. For every step he took, he could feel the dead, stale pig's blood combining with the Jack Daniels he'd just had at Willy's. It made his stomach hurt, but he didn't mind. It was a welcome distraction.

Finally turning onto Revello Drive, he slowed his footsteps until he finally came to a stop underneath the tree he hadn't stood under in exactly one hundred and forty-seven days. Hands trembling, he reached into the pockets of his duster, only to find his cigarettes mushy and soaked. He didn't really want to smoke just then, anyways. It was really just habit that made him reach for the pack. He'd rather just be, in this moment that he dreamed a thousand different times, a thousand different ways, but never imagined would actually happen.

He breathed in, his heightened senses taking in the fresh scent of rain, the smell of crushed grass and weeds where he had carelessly trodden on the yard, and, fainter than all the rest, blood. Her blood. It crusted and scabbed on the outside of her hands. He could smell the dirt and decay that still clung to her. He could hear the pounding of her heart, uneven, unsure, and afraid.

Turning his face up to the sky, he let himself weep. He let out the tears that had been threatening to fall since he'd looked up those stairs, seeing the bot until he caught a whiff of her, heard the blood pounding through her veins. His whole body shook with the force of his emotions, and he dimly remembered crying like this when he saw her body, crumpled and defeated, at the beginning of the summer. The poet in him acknowledged the rightness, the balance, in these actions, and for once, he didn't try to force down that part of himself. Instead, he embraced both halves of himself for the first time in over a century. He let his demon half feel the very life essence of the girl upstairs, listen to her heart beating, and smell the scent of her skin and hair and blood. He let his long-lost human half feel the sharp loss of her, and the even sharper realization that she was really and truly back. He was overjoyed by that, yet couldn't help but feel his dead heart clench at the memory of when William, an innocent, naïve boy, had to crawl his way out of his own grave. At the time, he had been fueled by the hungry strength of his demon, but he could still feel the cold terror of being buried. He did not wish for her to be subjected to the same thing.

If only they had told him. He would have stopped them, of course, which is why they hadn't. But if only they had told him to be at her grave that night, he could have dug her out. He could have used his hands, the same hands that had clawed and pushed frantically at the earth in exactly the same way. He could have saved her the pain of waking up alone, unloved, underground. He would gladly live through being buried alive again, just to save her from it.

He loved her. He had never been so sure of that. Oh sure, he had known for months. He'd been telling Buffy that for months. But inside, the demon was always whispering his uncertainties. It made him wonder how a vampire could love. It made him wonder what kind of vampire could love the Slayer. It wasn't until he let his two halves come together in this anguished grief and joy that he, Spike, both demon and human, could see that he loved Buffy with all his heart and metaphorical soul.

From their mystical place in the sky, the Powers That Be smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! I know this has taken a while longer than it should have. Sorry about that! I rewrote this chapter because I didn't like it the first time. I'm still not completely satisfied with it, but it's all about practice, right? :) Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!**

**Also, thanks to everyone who added me to their alerts and favorites and reviewed! I really appreciate it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and only intend to use the characters for entertainment purposes.**

Spike stood under that tree all night. At some point, he stopped crying, and just stood, waiting. What he was waiting for, he didn't quite know, but he would stand guard over her until it happened. Just being near her reassured him, and he knew this was an opportunity he wasn't going to get again very soon, not with the Scoobies swarming around her.

Every few minutes, he would glance at the lightening sky, gauging how much time he had left. Finally, he knew he had to leave if he didn't want to get burned on the way home, although he figured his soaked clothes would give him a bit more protection than he usually had. He sighed once more at her bedroom window, then spun on his heel to start the journey across town.

Abruptly, he stopped. He wasn't in Buffy's yard anymore. He slowly turned back around, hoping against reason that he would see the rain-soaked grass and tree and familiar house, but no. Instead, he found himself looking at a hallway. The walls were made of some strange material that Spike had never seen, white at first glance, but ever-changing, a bit like opal. Sighing, he started down the hall, muttering under his breath the whole way.

The hallway seemed to curve like it was a circle, but he couldn't be sure, since everything looked the same, and the walls kept changing. Finally, he came across an archway made of what appeared to be ice, but was warm to the touch. Beyond the opening was a room that looked a bit like the foyer of a mansion, so Spike was cautious as he stepped forward, unsure if he would be allowed to enter. However, he met no resistance, and his body automatically tensed for a fight, knowing that there might be a beastie waiting for him.

"William," a female voice rang out, and for a wild moment, Spike could have sworn it was Buffy, but when he turned, he saw a couple dressed in a metallic fabric, elegantly draped over their perfect frames. They were strange-looking, with exotic features and dark eyes, but skin just as white as Spike's. He supposed that they could be vampires as well, but his supernatural sense tingled in a completely different way than it did for fellow bloodsuckers.

"Who are you?" he asked cautiously, mentally cataloguing the stakes and knives he had hidden in his clothes.

They smiled benevolently. "We are no threat to you, William. There's no need to be so wary of us. We only mean to help you."

"Help me with what?" Spike let himself appear relaxed, but remained aware as ever.

The man spoke up for the first time. "We've been watching you this past summer. We've seen the good you can do, the good you have become."

"Whoa whoa whoa. There must be some mistake. I'm not good. I'm _evil_._" _

The man laughed, a peculiar sound almost like rain falling. "We don't make mistakes. We know who you are. William Pratt. William the Bloody. The Scourge of Europe. Slayer of Slayers. Spike. You are all of those things, but you are also good. Falling in love has changed you, irreversibly."

When Spike spoke again, his voice was hoarse. "Irreversibly? You can't mean—you mean I'm stuck like this forever?" An eternity caught between good and evil, love and hate. He couldn't fathom it. How could he survive, knowing what it was like to truly love someone, in the right way, for the right reasons, but never be loved back because he was evil? Maybe when these strange people were done with him, they'd be kind enough to deposit him back into the sunniest spot in Sunnydale.

"You are the only vampire to ever change in that way. You—"

Spike interrupted, "No! No, I'm not. See, you did make a mistake! Angel changed! He's not evil anymore. He's all soul now. Surely you've heard about that, it's all he talks about. He was always more evil than I was, anyway. You probably want him instead. Glad to be of assistance." He turned around to leave, and found himself facing the couple again. "Damn. Why do you keep doing that?"

Their faces remained perfectly calm, but Spike could sense their power surging. They didn't like his constant interruptions. To be honest, he wasn't sure why he kept doing that. He only knew that he didn't like where this was going. He had a weird feeling about it, and in a hundred and twenty years, he'd learned to trust those instincts.

"Listen, vampire. We thought you had changed when we saw your actions this summer. And tonight, your utter despair for the Slayer proved it. You are no longer evil. We were unsure how to proceed, as no vampire has ever done such a thing before, but we are sure that a good vampire cannot exist."

Spike, being Spike, couldn't resist another interruption. "Angel's not evil."

The woman spoke this time, waving her hand in dismissal, "His goodness is not real. It's simply the product of a manufactured soul. Your goodness is completely different, borne of true love and anguish. A goodness that pure cannot exist in the same body as a demon. Therein lies our problem. However, the resurrection of the Slayer has given us an idea. I assume you know how Slayers came about?"

Spike nodded. He'd done quite a bit of research before going to China.

"Slayers have the souls and bodies of humans, but the strength of demons. That is the only way the two can coexist."

Spike felt light-headed. "So...what you're saying is I can only exist if I become…human?"

The man stepped down from his pedestal, peering into Spike's face. "It is your reward." With that, he placed his hand over Spike's heart. Spike thought he saw it glowing, but he couldn't be sure, as was quickly slipping into unconsciousness.


End file.
